Open to Love
by Beatrice Bhandal
Summary: Fraser has an invitation for a date, but will the torment of his painful past prevent him from taking a chance on love? Or can Francesca help him take the leap? Just a sweet story I hope. It doesn't reveal whom the invitation is from, so it could be anyone of your choosing. Enjoy.


It had been a long week for Francesca Vecchio at the Chicago PD 27th Precinct office. She hurried to log the last few reports before shutting down her computer for the weekend. She cleared a few empty coffee cups and scraps of paper, so the work space was clear for the weekend shift staff to use. Almost everyone had cleared out already, many of her co-workers heading to a nearby bar for a few drinks, so the open plan office felt eerily quiet. As she walked back towards her desk after depositing the coffee mugs in the break room, she saw Constable Benton Fraser enter, followed by his ever-present wolf Diefenbaker. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when the handsome Mountie appeared. He was out of uniform and dressed in jeans, checked shirt and dark brown leather jacket. Francesca wondered what he was doing there after hours, but suddenly remembered his Stetson sitting on her desk. It had been returned to the police station earlier in the week by a council worker who reportedly found and recognised it in a gutter after a crowded street rally. It was strange how many friends Fraser seemed to have around the city. Though, his habit of helping anyone and everyone probably explained it and he did kind of stand out in a crowd in his red serge uniform.

"I assume you're here for this?" Francesca quipped brushing off the slightly battered brim and handing it over. As she did so, she noticed a small folded paper fall to the floor.

"Thank you kindly, Francesca." Fraser took the hat and absently examined the damage.

"No worries," she deftly retrieved the paper assuming it to be Canadian currency which she knew he liked to stash in his hat band. But, unfolding it, she realised she was wrong. It was a hand-written note which read:

Love to see you next Friday

if you can make it

xxx

This mysterious note sparked her interest.

"This um… fell out of your hat." She examined his reaction closely as he took the note. As he looked at it, a warm fondness lit his face and a spark of excitement flashed in his eyes.

Francesca was thrilled and eager to know more. "Wait, is it... is it a date?" she grinned.

"I believe so, yes," he responded stiffly and carefully folded the note back into his hatband.

"That's great Fraser! With who? Is it someone I know?" Fraser stared down at his hat, so she could no longer gauge his expression and she felt perhaps she had intimidated him with her interest. He would probably make some excuse to leave now and she'd never find out more. She knew he was a private person, but she just couldn't help herself sometimes. She longed to understand him better, and his reservation with women still puzzled her. At their first meeting, of course it had charmed and intrigued her, then later, encouraged her to pursue him and even try to seduce him. Ultimately though, Francesca was not interested in a man who could not equal her passion. She wanted someone who unquestionably wanted her back. So, while she was more than willing to make the first move with a man, she did not want to make ALL the moves. She now tended to view Constable Benton Fraser as an enigma to be deciphered rather than a love prospect. But any small clues she came across were like precious pearls she hoped could enlighten her as to the nature of his heart. She would so love to see him more relaxed and happy, comfortable in the arms of someone who cared about him- even if it wasn't her. Hell, she would even help him get there if she could. But she very rarely saw any evidence that he even desired such a thing, which was why she had observed with such curiosity the flicker of interest and hope in his eyes as he had read that note.

"Of course, It's none of my business," she dismissed, "Sorry for prying. I hope you have a wonderful night." She genuinely meant it.

To her surprise though, Fraser did not leave but remained standing, leaning slightly against the wall near her desk, staring down at the hat in his hands. "I haven't replied," he said quietly. "It's probably too late now anyway…" His voice sounded hollow and empty and it made her feel sad, suddenly.

"You haven't replied? It's tonight right? It's not too late," encouraged Francesca. God, she would have waited up all night for him and still been over the moon if he turned up at 4 am!

"Maybe, but I just, I couldn't …" he bit his lower lip, still looking down, "I suppose I should at least call and… apologise."

Fraser looked up now, his eyes distant, staring past Francesca almost as if she weren't there, a pained expression on his face. He looked like he was about to cry- of course she knew he wouldn't, but she felt that she might cry just from looking at him.

"Oh Fraise, what's wrong?" she almost sobbed, placing a hand on his breast.

"Nothing, I don't know. I just…" he stammered still staring ahead. He took a shaky breath, "I can't... I don't have the best judgment when it comes to…"

He couldn't seem to finish a sentence. Francesca felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the usually articulate and stoic Benton Fraser. She had seen the unmistakable flicker of excitement in his eyes, so why did he hesitate? She guessed it was in part, due to his history, namely with Victoria Metcalf. She knew all there was to know about the matter, having heard some from Ray after the time Victoria had visited Chicago. At the time, she and her family were staying with relatives but they had returned to find Ray a mess after shooting Fraser in the back trying to save him from Victoria who had framed him and nearly destroyed his life. Later, Francesca had read all the official records she could access in her civilian aide role at the police office. The records were very dry but having a romantic nature she had read between the lines. A real-life romantic tragedy had unfolded before her and she felt that perhaps she understood his dilemma. She rested her forehead on his shoulder.

"I get it. You've been hurt before and you're scared. You don't trust yourself." She looked up, her dark eyes full of compassion. "Look, Fraise, I know a little of your history, because Ray told me about it and also, well, everyone knows. But, I don't think your judgement is flawed." Fraser looked down at her now. His mind still seemed to be partly somewhere else, but he listened to her words. "People fall in love for all kinds of reasons," she continued, still surprised that he had not fled. She tried a new approach. "You know, I also fell in love in a life and death situation." This seemed to spark some interest. "Would you like to hear about it?" Francesca had never told anyone the full story of her first love and she felt a little nervous about it, but she knew Fraser would never betray her trust. Of course, she wasn't sure if her story would help him, but it might at least provide a distraction from his pain. She didn't want to lose him completely to his dark memories- there might be no way to rescue him. Perhaps that was even what kept him here – a fear of the unescapable internal torment that awaited him in his solitude.

"So," she began dramatically, at his acquiescent nod, jumping up to sit on the corner of her desk. "I was sixteen and I was grounded. I don't remember why- I probably spent too much on Pa's credit card or stayed out past my curfew or something. But anyway, I wanted desperately to go to this school dance thing. All my friends were going and there was some cute guy I wanted to impress, so I snuck out. It just happened to be the same night that Eddie Ramiro decided to burn down the school." She paused for dramatic effect, leaning forward her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. Fraser listened attentively. "So anyway, the dance was in the school hall, but I snuck in through the classrooms 'cause I didn't want the teachers at the entrance to see me in case word got back to my parents. As I made my way through the corridors I came across this other kid. I didn't know him too well, but he was in my grade. He was pretty dodgy even then. I think he was sneaking alcohol in to the dance. But we got to talking and then this thick smoke started coming up through the floor boards and soon we couldn't see a thing, let alone breathe properly. We crawled along the corridor to an empty classroom and opened a window. We hung out there for a while trying to decide what to do until flames were literally licking at the door." Now Francesca found herself vividly reliving the experience as she related her story. She could feel the smoke in her lungs, the heat on her face and the boy's firm embrace. "I was scared to death and so was he, but we kept each other from freaking out. He smashed a window and we climbed out. There was a ledge that led to a fire escape and we climbed down. By now the whole hall had been evacuated and we could hear the commotion and see lights from the fire fighters and police at the other side of the building. I thought we should go over there and check everyone was ok including ourselves- we were coughing like we had lung cancer, but he begged me not too. I guess he didn't want to get found out and neither did I, so I agreed." Francesca rocked back on the table shrugging her shoulders. "We took ourselves home and swore never to tell anyone what'd happened. And we didn't. But we couldn't forget," she sighed, "and we couldn't stay away from each other. I started sneaking out to see him instead of studying. Probably ruined me for life. You know, I'd been a straight A student up till then and despite what Pa said, I was determined to go to college and you know, make something of myself. But not after that- I was in love." Her smile was bittersweet. "When we looked in each other's eyes it was like nothing else mattered. I tried telling myself it wasn't real, that it was just the circumstances that brought us together. But the circumstances were real, and our love was real. Hell, it was more real than anything else." Francesca concluded, "I married that kid. He's my ex-husband." She sat quietly for a moment, lost in her memories, then glanced at Fraser. He also appeared lost in thought. She wondered if he was really interested in her tale, or whether he was considering his own situation. Either way, she was pleased that he seemed more relaxed, well maybe not relaxed, but at least not in obvious anguish.

"Do you still love him?" His earnest question took her off- guard and she felt suddenly self-conscious after revealing her private story. But she considered the question truthfully.

"Yeah. I do," she admitted. "I mean I pretend I hate him- it's what people expect. But I don't think I stopped loving him. No, I just realised we were no good together. I mean in a partnership -a good partnership, you're better off and you're a better person, you know? Like you and my brother solving crimes. That's a good partnership. You complement each other. My husband and I, we just dragged each other down, no matter how much we tried, we couldn't make it better. I am so glad we didn't have kids, I mean I love kids but that would have been a disaster. In the end, I swallowed my pride and moved back home. I felt lost for a long time after that."

"How did you get over it?"

Francesca pondered this question carefully then answered slowly. "It took a leap of faith to move on- and it was hard. Of course," she smiled smugly "it also took a very special person to motivate me to take that leap." She looked sideways at Fraser to gauge if he understood that he had been that special person, but he showed no indication. "But it still took all my courage to take the leap," she continued seriously, "and I'm glad I did, even though I didn't end up with…" she stared directly into his grey-blue eyes now, her heart skipping a beat, "with that person," surely he understood that it was him? To her joy, Fraser turned and gazed directly back into her eyes, "because I didn't lose out," she whispered. "Relationships don't always end in disaster. Some end in friendship."

"Francesca," Fraser murmured, a soft smile at his lips, "I am honoured to count you as a friend. And thank you for sharing your story."

"Anytime." She squeezed his arm warmly and bounced off the desk grinning like an idiot.

"Oh, and Francesca, would you mind if I used the telephone?"

"Of course, Fraser." Then realising that he intended on replying to his date, "Oh right, I just um… need to use the bathroom. Excuse me."

She returned just as he replaced the phone's handset on the receiver. He turned cheerfully toward her, spun his hat on his finger and signalled for Diefenbaker who had been scavenging scraps from the break room floor. "You've changed your clothes," he noticed "you look lovely Francesca." She glowed with happiness and her dark eyes sparkled.

"Thank you, Fraser. I have a date."

"Well, I hope you have a wonderful evening."

"You too."

And the pair left the office into the crisp evening air, their hearts beating strong with trepidation and hope in equal measure.


End file.
